Block · one region of the page, as the scanner read it. It may hold a whole story, part of one, several, or an advertisement; stitching blocks into articles is the next step. Text is supplied OCR.
Page 4 · column 3 of 6 · from the scan, no model involved
lantern-holder (dressed), toasters and an ' assortment of table lamps.
Lucas had his attention devoted to a spider making its way up the wall. Lucas was relentless.
“I hate spiders,” Lucas screamed as if the spider was walking up the wall for spite. “This lousy weather. Brings out these suckers, you know. I hate 'em. Look at ’em. They’re so ugly. I could kill them all.”
Lucas often spoke in choppy sentences.
Just then he heaved another blade at the creature, cutting it in two at a 45degree angle.
“Ah,” I thought, “I’m dealing with a weather-hating, cleaver-heaver who miters spiders.” I made a mental note. I do that sometimes. I’m a cop.
“Lucas,” I said, stuffing my service revolver in my shoulder holster. “What do you know about these rash of break-ins?”
“You mean case No. 5786 dash B? Don’t know nothin’,” he snapped, walking across the room, tripping over the Negro jockey, knocking it to the floor in pieces. “Stupid thing,” Lucas whined. The lantern was destroyed.
I got a strange sensation. It wasn’t the jockey’s broken arm in my sock but, rather, my observation that Lucas failed to recognize any of the clutter around him that had become a part of his life. And his apartment, too. I knew Lucas was a slob and that he hated that part of his life as well.
I made a second mental note, I do that. I am — well, you know by now.
Frustrated by the lack of cooperation offered by Lucas, I hit the street, seeking a second contact. I knew the one person who could help me on this case, the one
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